Daddy's Girl
by Lefting
Summary: Snape was not, as half the population believed, celibate. He was also not, as the other half of the population believed, a sex God. Either way, it came as a huge shock when a baby girl was left on his doorstep. UNFINISHED


**Daddy's Girl**

Snape was not, as half the population believed, celibate. He was also not, as the other half of the population believed, a sex God with another woman in his bed every weekend. If anyone found this out they would be relieved to know that he hadn't forgone all unspoken laws surrounding Snape-ish-ness and had actual relationships. When it came to relationships Snape didn't have them. He had the odd one night stand here or there, but nothing akin to Casanova and certainly not few enough to be classed as a saint. Not that anyone would call Snape a saint anyway.

Which was why when wizarding social services dropped by his manor house with a bundle of what looked like rags and congratulated him on being a father Snape was more than a little shocked.

In fact he was so shocked he made the wizarding social services official faint.

At the age of twenty one he really should have had more control over his magic, but Snape was very angry and had just been practising wandless magic. Luckily the new father remembered the child and caught it before it fell to the ground and killed itself. Snape did not have many morals, but he did not support the abuse of children. Nor did he fancy the idea of having to deal with all the paperwork which such an incident would unavoidably have produced.

Damn Ministry.

It took a ridiculous amount of time for Snape to wake the WSS official, as the poor man fainted again at the sight of Snape as soon as he was woken. Eventually, however, the baby started bawling and Snape, at his wits end, covered his face with a handkerchief before waking the official for the seventh time.

'Shut the damn thing up!' he snarled at the man, who tut-tutted and did _something_ that made the bundle quieten down.

Feeling it was safe to remove the handkerchief from his face Snape did so, eyeing the official warily. Luckily the man just turned a yellow-ish colour.

'Hername'sAnnabelleJanettewedon'tknowwhothemotherisbutyou'redefinitelythefatherGoodday!' and with that the man scarpered, leaving in his wake a snarling Severus Snape, a gurgling baby Snape and a couple of decidedly un-helpful leaflets.

Snape frowned and picked up the baby at arms reach until it was at eye-height. 'Annabelle,' he said. The little girl grinned at him, her tongue slipping out between her toothless gums. Snape sighed. 'At least you have a reasonable name.' Then he resigned himself to his fate.

It took nine minutes and thirty-three seconds for Snape to transfigure enough things in the room next to his for the baby to be happy for that night at least. This was due to the fact that Snape had no idea what a baby might need to keep it safe and alive. He had opted against day-glow pink walls that parents of young girls seemed to favour, choosing instead a mint green that the little girl had seemed happy enough about.

A cot bed with bars and snake embroidered sheets had been Snape's first attempt for a sleeping implement, but the girl had shrieked and shook her head. He had to agree that the bars did look a little… prison like. After quite a while negotiating with the child Snape had produced a rather stylish little cot with dark blue sheets and silver dragons on them. How he had managed to compromise with a child who did not have the ability to talk yet was not worth thinking about, but Snape hadn't felt foolish about it until some while later.

The rest of her things: a lamp, a bedside table, a couple of stuffed toys and a very thick, fluffy carpet were easier to procure as, by this time, the little girl was rather tired from the days' adventures. Looking at the green and blue décor, decorated with silver and white dragons Snape wondered if, perhaps, the girl wasn't a complete loss. A bastard child, and a girl at that, had never been high on the list of things the esteemed potions master wanted, but she did seem to have good taste, even at this age.

As soon as Snape had tucked in the girl for the night he immediately sent out two notes, one to Narcissa Malfoy, wife of his dear friend Lucius and new mother to the rather brattish Draco, who was also Snape's godson and one to Lily Evans – no, Potter now – who had also recently given birth to the child of Snape's childhood nemesis, James Potter. He and Lily's once strong friendship had weakened somewhat since Snape's choice to become a Death Eater and Lily's choice to marry Potter, but they nevertheless continued to owl with odd titbits of unimportant news.

Both letters went something along the lines of: _I have recently discovered that I am the father of a young child of the female sort whose mother has recently expired (or abandoned the child) and am at a loss as to what to do._

Or, using a normal person's way of writing letters: _I have a baby and haven't a clue what to do with it. Help!_

Either way he got swift responses from both women who assured him that they would be over sometime the next day to drop off a few essentials and clue him in as to how to do the various tasks that most females seem to be able to know how to do instinctively. Snape figured that so long as they didn't start explaining how to breast feed babies he'd be fine.

It was one of those rare times when Snape was wrong.

Narcissa and Lily had never been close friends at school as they were separated by two years and, of course, the house rivalries. When they had both fallen pregnant at the same time and started going to the same courses that would help prepare them for the various side-effects of pregnancy leading up to the actual birth the two women had found that they had a lot in common and had spent a lot of time talking about Ways In Which To Improve Severus Snape and laughing at their husbands who had spent most of the sessions eyeing each other warily.

So, when they bumped into each other at the front gate to the Prince Manor, where Snape was currently residing, conversation was an easy thing for the two to fall into, especially as they hadn't seen much of each other since their boys were born. They had arrived at Snape's front door wearing matching officious smiles and armed with what had looked, at the time, to be reasonably small bags. Snape had let them in, watching the smiles warily.

'Severus, darling!' Narcissa had greeted enthusiastically, placing her bag on the table with a very loud thump for such a small bag. She kissed him once on each cheek as Lily flung herself forward with one of her infamous rugby-tackle hugs.

The two women cheerfully enquired about the child in a way that made Snape wish instead for the Spanish Inquisition until he fled the kitchen, declaring he'd bring the child back down with him. He'd returned to find two dauntingly large piles of various baby things and two beaming women who had cooed and awed at the poor child. Annabelle, much like her father, sulked much of that morning.

When it finally seemed an appropriate time to declare lunch Snape had to admit that, despite Lily and Narcissa's overbearing natures, it had indeed been a good idea to meet up again. He missed Lily's realistic cheerfulness and Narcissa's attention to detail. And he had learnt an awful lot about how to care for the child that, loathe as he was to admit it, was now his.

'Sev, love,' Lily said at some point during their luncheon, 'what are you going to do when _he_ calls you? You can't just leave Annie here and you certainly can't take her with you.'

Narcissa nodded emphatically and Snape half-shrugged, half-shook his head. Snape was starting to have regrets about joining the Dark Lord, though he would never say so out loud. The Malfoys, so far as he knew, were still strong believers in what the Dark Lord had to offer and if he so much as breathed a word of doubt he would be routed out and made to suffer for it. But what to do when it came to the child? 'Annie' the women had affectionately nicknamed the girl.

'I have yet to ascertain what approach would be most suitable,' Snape finally admitted.

'Annie' tittered at him and stuck her fingers in the yellow-y mush of what used to be a banana.

'She will stay with me,' Narcissa said decisively. 'She and Draco can entertain themselves whilst their fathers are at the meetings.'

'Yes, good idea, Cissy,' Lily agreed. 'I'd offer, but James…' she trailed off; no one needed to be told what James was.

It was clear that Lily loved her husband and was loved in return, James was just… a closed box when it came to thinking. And as stubborn as Snape.

'Well, I have to be off now,' Lily said and gave each of the other three a kiss before disappearing out of the front door. Annabelle waved after her new pseudo-godmother as her tongue lolled out again.

'Isn't she sweet?' Narcissa cooed. 'I'm sure she'll grow up to have all of your best traits.'

Snape choked on this, it wasn't often that one heard 'sweet' in reference to him unless it was introduced by 'not'.

Then Narcissa stood to make her farewell, promising to drop by soon with Draco so that the two babies could start getting to know each other. Snape thought he saw some of Narcissa's matchmaker's glint in her eye, but immediately dismissed it. The children weren't even a year old for crying out loud!

Once the house was once again only occupied by those who lived in it Annabelle collapsed back into the highchair that she was currently occupying as though she had merely sat up straight for propriety's sake. Snape shook his head. He really must be dreaming things.

He took the child upstairs for a nap and returned to his practise of wandless magic, hoping that when he went to sleep that night when he woke up it would all be dream.

~~SS~~

The next couple of years were eventful ones. Lily Potter nee Evans was murdered alongside her husband by Lord Voldemort, who was then crushed by the hand of their infant, Harry Potter, and Snape quietly, regretfully changed sides in the war. The Malfoys were trialled and, under Dumbledore's persuasion, found not guilty. Harry Potter, the boy hero, was sent to an undisclosed location and Snape took up a teaching post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as part of his repentance in his part of the betrayal of Lily and James Potter.

Annabelle grew steadily and learned quickly, much to the delight of her father. Snape had been reluctant at first to treat the girl as his daughter, rather than simply a child in his care. But he had to admit that it was she, not Dumbledore or his new job, that had pulled him out of the state of depression in which he had fallen after Lily's death. Annabelle had been little over a year old and had only spoken a couple of mostly nonsensical words, but one night just as he turned the light out after tucking her up she had told him sleepily, 'ni' Daddy.'

Since then Snape would tell all and sundry that she was his daughter – if they asked. Snape was still a very private person and no one but his daughter saw how tender he was around her.

Narcissa had held true to her promise of taking care of Annabelle when Lucius and Snape were called when Voldemort was still alive, but any hopes she had to matching Annabelle and Draco were soon squished. The babies got on like a house on fire. In the middle of a torrential rainfall. That is to say, not at all. Draco had stolen her bottle and Annabelle had pulled his hair. Annabelle had broken his toy broomstick and Draco had thrown his banana skin at her. Their parents had tried their best to stop any fights that might take place, but the two children seemed to delight in torturing each other.

But as the years passed Annabelle became closer and closer to her father, until even when he went into full tirade at her she would brush it off with a quick hug and an apology for whatever it was that she'd done wrong. Snape had only ever reduced his daughter to tears once and that had been because she was worried about him, rather than scared of his shouting. When it became clear that shouting at Annabelle had no effect Snape had been at a loss as to how to discipline her. Fortunately Annabelle was generally a very well behaved young girl so it was not a matter of too much concern.

When both she and Draco were four it was decided that they should be homeschooled together at the Malfoy Manor. Annabelle had accepted this decision with next to no fuss, but Draco had put up quite a tantrum – the two of them had, through the four years of their life, avoided each other as much as possible, considering their parents were best friends. Luckily though, after a few incidents of hair-pulling and ink-flicking the two of them had decided that their talents would best be put to use against the teacher rather than each other.

A tentative friendship sprung up between the two of them until Malfoy Manor became one huge trap. It took great precision and skill to go from one of the building to the other without being attacked by one of the terrible twosome's tricks. And, of course, as soon as a trap was sprung Draco and Annabelle would reset it with a slightly different trigger. Snape, Narcissa and Lucius soon became wise to the twosome's tricks but said and did nothing, delighting in the discomfort of any visitors. The visitors who mattered to the Malfoys were warned previous to their visit and guided through the halls. The visitors who did not were told that Annabelle and Draco would receive severe punishment the next day. No one knew they actually got chocolate.

It was when Annabelle was six that the incident happened. Snape and his daughter had become very close and she seemed to have inherited all his good traits – his perceptiveness, his handsome face structure (minus the nose, of course) and his intelligence – and side stepped all the bad things – his sallow complexion, permanently greasy hair and meanness of nature. But on 31st July she disappeared for the entire day, reappearing shortly before her bedtime with deep apologies to her frantic father, but refusing to say where she'd been.

Snape, of course, did his very best to get the information out of her. He yelled, threatened and sent her to bed without tea. He spoilt, bribed and entreated her, but she would not breathe a word. Merely saying 'I was safe and went there of my own accord.'

The same thing happened the next year and the year after and the year after until she was eleven, when she simply told her father, who had grown to expect her disappearances, that there was no point going that year and that he would soon find out why. Snape, who never like a mystery, even – _especially_ – a good one, was relieved by this news, but also more than a little worried and bewildered.

Now, despite being a Hogwarts Professor and spending 90percent of the year living on the school grounds Snape decided that being dropped off at platform 9¾ was an essential part of the Hogwarts experience. So, on the morning of September the first he woke up, breakfasted with his daughter as usual and then floo'd both of them from their quarters in the Hogwarts dungeons to The Leaky Cauldron. Personally both of the Snapes thought it a little ridiculous that the journey they made lasted no longer than a couple of seconds, yet Annabelle would spend the rest of the day making her way back to her bedstead.

Upon their arrival at King's Cross Annabelle, so unlike herself, had given off an excited squeal and disappeared into the crowd. Snape, being Snape and a father, naturally bellowed after her, but not before the skinny first year had vanished. Sighing, her father made his way to the entrance to the platform and waited for her arrival. Sure enough minutes later the black haired eleven year old had reappeared, dragging a dishevelled boy with distinctive black messy hair behind her.

'Daddy, daddy, this is Harry!' she announced cheerfully.

The boy coughed. 'Hi, um, hello, sir.'

Snape scowled and the boy quivered slightly under his gaze, making Annabelle scowl too. 'Harry Potter?' he asked eventually.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. 'Who else?' she asked. 'When you told me about Lily and Narcissa and how they helped you when I arrived and then how Lily died and how Harry disappeared I went looking for him and–'

'Breathe, Elle,' her father prompted.

Annabelle heaved in a breath before continuing. 'I snuck into the Ministry by nicking Lucius' pass-card and looked at the census of the wizarding population and I found out that it was his birthday and where he lived and–'

'Breathe,' Snape reminded again.

Annabelle took another breath. 'I visited him and then went again his next birthday and the next because I didn't think you'd be too happy knowing where I was sneaking off to but I didn't go this year because I knew he'd be coming here.' Annabelle finally stopped talking and beamed.

'Potter. Harry Potter. You've been sneaking off every 31st July for the entire day since you were six to wish _Harry Potter_ a happy birthday?'

The boy in question quailed a bit under the man's furious hiss, but Annabelle just said, 'yep.'

'Look, Daddy, can we talk later? I want to catch Cissy and Lucius before the train leaves,' Annabelle informed him before hurrying off, leaving Harry with Snape.

'Just so you know, Potter,' the man snarled. 'I will not favour you for your fame. You will be treated like any other student.' The man paused, staring at the brick wall through which Annabelle had gone. 'If you harm or even _think_ of harming a single hair on my Annabelle's head you will wish the Dark Lord had killed you.' And with that Snape stalked through the brick wall after his wayward daughter and the infamous swirl of his cloak. Harry was left stunned in his wake and went off to find a station guard.

Half an hour later the train was finally on its way and Annabelle was making her slow way down the train in search of Harry and Draco. The problem with being a Professor's daughter and living at the school meant that Annabelle knew a lot of the students from all of the houses and all the year groups so working her way down the train was a very slow business indeed. It was far from boring, of course, just very slow.

'Hey, Fred, it's the Snapette!' a friendly, red haired, freckled third year shouted a greeting.

'I do believe you're right, George,' his twin replied.

Annabelle hesitated a moment before saying, 'how's anyone else supposed to tell which of you is which is _you_ don't know?'

'How do you do that?' the first twin asked.

'Magic,' the girl replied with a wink. 'I don't suppose either of you have seen Harry or Draco?'

The twins looked at each other and shook their heads. 'Sorry, Snapette,' they said in unison. Annabelle had spent their entire first year trying to stop them from calling her that, but to no effect. By the time they arrived back for their second year she had decided it was actually quite a cool nickname.

Further down the train Annabelle was stopped by Adrian Pucey, a second year Slytherin who wanted to know if it was true if Harry Potter was on the train.

Annabelle smirked at Adrian and his friends. 'I'm sorry, kids,' she told them. 'But I am not in a position to reveal any undisclosed information.'

'You sound more like Snape everyday,' Adrian groused.

Annabelle drew herself up to her full height – which wasn't much – and declared, 'I _am_ Snape you slow-witted buffoon!'

The Slytherins had sniggered along with her smirk and then replied that they hadn't seen Draco in return to her inquiry.

Eventually, in the very last compartment of the very last carriage, Annabelle found one of her targets.

'Harry! There you are,' she said, pointing out the obvious and flopping down in the seat opposite him, next to a boy with familiar red hair. 'You're a Weasley, aren't you?' she asked him.

'Ron,' the red haired offered a hand.

Annabelle sniggered.

'What?'

'You're 'Ronniekins',' Annabelle spluttered, giggling.

'What?' Ron said again, this time furiously.

'Your – your brothers! _You're _the infamous youngest brother!'

Ron frowned. 'I'm infamous?'

'Oh, all the Weasleys are. Hard not to be,' Annabelle informed him, recovering her cool. 'Harry, how are you since we last met? I'm sorry about my Dad, he's a bit of a git. No – he's a lot of a git.'

Harry grinned a bit. 'I missed you on my birthday, but then, Hagrid came and gave me my letter then, so I guess that makes up for it.'

'Yeah, Hagrid couldn't help telling everyone about you.'

'Is it… is it true what he said about my parents? And the Voldemort fellow?'

Annabelle's smirk disappeared. ''fraid so. Voldemort killed my mum as well, you know. Well… the ministry doesn't know for sure, but _I _know. I may have been only a couple of months old, but I know. But Dad took me in and he's looked after me, so it's OK.'

'Who's your dad?' Ron interrupted at this point.

'Professor Snape,' Annabelle said proudly, grin growing at Ron's shocked expression.

'But he's evil,' Ron finally managed to say.

'To students, yes,' Annabelle agreed.

'And you're supposed to be Peeves' assistant!'

Annabelle grinned proudly. It had taken some persuasion but after several episodes of tricking Peeves she and the poltergeist were on friendly terms.

'How do you survive?'

Annabelle chuckled. And this boy hadn't even met her father yet!

'I guess you're going to be in Slytherin, then,' the red head said sullenly.

'There's nothing wrong with Slytherin,' Annabelle informed the boy curtly.

'Sure, you've only produced the two darkest wizards and all their followers in the past hundred years.'

'One hundred years – that's not saying much is it?' Annabelle asked politely. 'If you look back in history you will find that all of the houses have had their fair share of dark wizards and witches, Slytherin is merely the fashion of late. You will also find that only half of Voldemort's followers are from Slytherin, the rest our scattered evenly throughout the houses. If you wanted to make a slightly more accurate statement you should blame it on purebloods and pureblood-wannabes,' Annabelle explained emotionlessly to the astonished red head.

'Don't let what anyone says influence your decision, Harry,' Annabelle told the black-haired boy. 'In times such as these prejudices run thick and deep. Slytherin holds values as true as those of the other founders, his name is just somewhat misused at the moment.'

Harry nodded once before conversation settled a little, even if Ron was still a little wary towards the Potions Professor's daughter.

A boy called Neville Longbottom came and went, looking for his toad and a bushy haired girl called Hermione Granger also appeared then left, helping with his search. Annabelle directed both of them in the direction of the fifth year Ravenclaws, who she'd seen holding a toad earlier and smiled winningly at Hermione when she repaired Harry's glasses.

'Sorry,' Annabelle apologised. 'I should have done that.'

'You know magic too?' the other girl asked.

Annabelle nodded. 'My dad is one of the Professors at Hogwarts.' Whereupon the two girls became immersed in enthusiastic conversation about the school and the subjects it taught, boring the boys half to death until Annabelle reminded Hermione of her mission in search for Neville's toad.

Conversation had turned to Quidditch and Annabelle and Ron were giving Harry an enthusiastic explanation of the sport when three boys entered the compartment.

'Is it true?' the boy in the middle asked. 'They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?'

'Yes,' said Harry as Annabelle attempted to swallow her giggles. Having known Draco almost her entire life meant that she only really knew the informal side of him. Seeing him now, with his two 'body guards' and pretending to be all high and mighty was too funny. None of the boys paid her any attention though.

'Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,' Draco said carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. 'And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.'

By this point Annabelle was shaking with silent mirth, but it seemed that Ron, who also found something about situation funny, could not contain his humour. Draco turned to him.

'Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.'

The last comment was low, but Annabelle couldn't help but agree silently with Draco. She said nothing though and watched as Draco looked back at Harry.

'You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.'

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but before the other boy could reply Annabelle burst out into laughter.

'D-Dra-Draco!' she stuttered around her laughter. 'You are too funny! You are _such_ a stuck up git, it's hilarious!'

'You know him?' Ron, still furious, demanded.

Draco, at the same time, whined, 'Aw, Annie, what are _you_ doing here?'

Annabelle wiped away the happy tears with a finger. 'My dad is his godfather. We kind of grew up together. And as for your question, Drake, I'm sitting here with two new friends, explaining Quidditch to Harry.'

'Why are you friends with Weasley?' the blonde moaned before Ron could say anything else.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. They had this conversation _every_ year. 'Weasley? Which one? Ron here? Because I've heard so much about him from the others. Fred and George because they rock, pure and simple. That and they're the only ones beside yourself and Peeves who can pull off a decent prank. Percy because he's smart – and yes, I know he's a git, but then so are you and Daddy, so get over it. And Bill and Charlie are just awesomeness in human form,' she told him sweetly, as she always did, checking the names off her fingers as she did so.

'But they're _Weasleys_,' Draco stressed.

Annie rolled her eyes. 'Yes, and you're a _Malfoy_.'

Draco's grey eyes narrowed to slits. 'And what exactly is wrong with being a Malfoy?'

'The same thing that's wrong about being a Snape,' Annabelle replied evenly.

Annabelle was standing by this time, Ron and Harry were pushed as far back into their seats as they could and Crabbe and Goyle had stepped as far back from the compartment as they could, without loosing sight of what was happening. Annabelle stood with her weight on one leg and her hands on her hips. She might have looked casual were it not for the cold fury in her expression. Draco's weight was evenly placed on both feet, his hands curled into fists and his body obviously angry, though he schooled his expression much better than she.

'Malfoy,' she said.

'Snape,' he replied.

Then they launched themselves at each other. Their audience flinched, expecting the fists to fall, but were instead rewarded with another show. Annabelle and Draco clung to each other, arms wrapped tight around the other.

'Fuck you, Annie,' Draco breathed into her ear.

'I'd really rather not,' Annabelle replied, laughing. 'Missed you too, dragon.'

'Um, what the hell?' Ron intoned after a moment, Annabelle and Draco releasing each other and collapsing into the seats opposite.

Annabelle shot Draco a sideways look. 'Um, well, me and Draco hate each other. But due to forced circumstances we put up with one another's company. Sometimes when we don't see each other for a long time we forget that we're supposed to be enemies.'

'Really?'

Draco snorted. 'Annabelle is the obnoxious Snape brat. There is no way that I would ever talk to her under normal conditions.'

'Aww, Draco, baby, I love you too,' Annabelle said in a mocking, sweet tone and leant over and placed a smacking kiss on Draco's cheek.

'Freak,' he replied, making a show of pushing her away.

Annabelle caught the look that passed from Ron to Harry and the shrug it received in return and smothered further giggles behind her hand.

* * *

Written: 5th March 2009  
Chances of continuation: nil

Feel free to use this piece of writing for whatever the hell you want, so long as you credit me (either this account or my main one - Calistabelle) and let me know what you do with it.

Much love,  
Cal


End file.
